First Impressions
by TolkienScholar
Summary: It's always a stressful event, choosing your seat on the first day of college classes. But an encounter with an obnoxiously popular black-haired guy makes Violet choose a spot she didn't intend to. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, but if anyone can overcome a negative first impression, it's Wilbur Robinson.
1. Chapter 1

Violet clutched her books to her chest. She didn't have to carry her books now; in college they actually let you have your backpack with you in class. But there was something comforting about holding them, about feeling her binder digging into her stomach and her arms tightly wrapped around the books as though she were hugging herself. Hugging herself, because her parents weren't here to hug her. She had never felt so far from home.

She double-checked the name on the side of the building. _Hamilton. Yes, that's right. Freshman Composition I, Hamilton Building, room 102, Professor Hinkley._ She was tempted to take out her schedule and look one more time, but she resisted the urge. She had looked at least ten times already.

There was a steady stream of students going in, but she still had to let go of her books with one hand to catch the door. The guy ahead of her didn't appear to even think about holding it. _Jerk._ It was strangely comforting; at least something here was the same as it was at home.

It was the usual dilemma in the classroom, too. The first day would decide her seat for the rest of the semester. Always, that choice.

The front? Pros: good view, easy to hear, close to the teacher, not as many people. Cons: eyes on her, always—as she walked down the aisle, the entire time she was in her seat, all semester long. Eyes boring into her.

The back? Pros: she could slip in without being noticed; she could be invisible. Without _actually_ being invisible. Cons: she would be stuck with all the bad kids, the kids who goofed off and talked and didn't care what grade they got as long as they didn't have to work for it.

A sound grated on her consciousness, forcing her attention away from the important decision to a black-haired boy in the row to her right.

"So then he asks for the wrench, and so I hand it to him, except, apparently there's two wrenches, and the one I handed him was the bigger one and he needs the smaller one, but they're too similar to see immediately that it's the wrong one. So he sticks the wrench in there and it apparently connects two wires or something, 'cause the whole thing blows up in his face!"

The group surrounding the storyteller burst out laughing. Four of them were guys who evidently hadn't matured beyond the point of finding explosions hilarious. The other two were girls who were clearly gaga over him. The black-haired boy's laugh was the loudest, and the most obnoxious.

Violet had no idea who the "he" in the story was, but she felt pretty certain the boy was only making it up to impress his friends. She hated showoffs. The need to call his bluff was suddenly stronger than her shyness, and before she knew it she was saying, "Wouldn't he be dead, then?"

The guy looked up, flipping the dumb little spike of hair above his forehead. His surprise at being challenged by a stranger was so fleeting that if she had blinked, she would have missed it. "Nah. The explosion wasn't _that_ big." She sensed the tiniest note of chagrin as he had to tone down his story a little.

She pressed on. "No. You said two wires connected. He was holding a metal wrench. He would have gotten electrocuted."

"Nah," the guy said again. "Nonconductive gloves. He always wears 'em when he works with machines. There's a story behind that, too…"

"Oh," Violet said as the boy turned back to his friends. She dropped into a seat at the next table up, surprised and embarrassed. The guy thought fast. She still didn't believe the story, but there wasn't really a comeback she could make.

It took her a minute to process the fact that she was sitting. She had picked her seat without meaning to, somewhere in the middle of the room, on the aisle. Not at all what she'd planned. It was another few seconds before she realized that she was also in front of the obnoxious black-haired boy. _Oh, no._ She started to get up—embarrassing as it would be, she _had_ to move—but just then, Professor Hinkley walked into the room. Too late.

 _Oh, no_.


	2. Chapter 2

"Vi! Just the person I wanted to see! Can you tell me what on earth this stupid syllabus day thing is? It seems like a complete waste of time to me."

Violet turned around and shut the door, maneuvering the handle so it slid closed without a sound. It was an old habit born of the desire not to be noticed. After the noise and bustle on campus, she would have been content if the room inside had been just as silent, but she was realizing already that with Kari as her roommate, that wasn't likely to ever be true.

"Huh?" she asked.

"Syllabus day," Kari repeated impatiently. "What's the point? Why don't we just get started on our work already?"

"Oh. Because… that's how they do it in college?" It hadn't occurred to Violet that Kari might not have heard of syllabus day. "You know, so you can see when stuff's due. You're going to have deadlines now, you know."

"I had deadlines in high school!" Kari protested. "Mom told me when stuff was due."

"And then gave you, like, two more weeks to do it when you didn't get it done on time. You told me so yourself."

Kari stuck out her tongue. "Homeschoolers _aren't_ irresponsible."

"I never said they were. I said they didn't have deadlines."

"Stereotyper!"

"Procrastinator!"

The two girls glared at each other for a moment. Then Kari's frown abruptly disappeared. "You're peopled out, that's what's wrong with you," she said. "I'm going to fix you some chamomile tea." She got up and began filling the electric kettle on the counter.

Violet dropped her backpack by her desk and lay down on the bed, rubbing her temples. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"No worries."

"You know I don't buy into those stupid stereotypes."

"It's no big deal," Kari reassured her. "Some of them are true, and the rest are just funny. Mickey or Minnie?" She held up the matching Disney mugs they'd bought for their room.

"Minnie."

Kari wrinkled her nose. "See, that's the trouble with you. You're not just shy; you even like shy characters. How're you supposed to get more outgoing if all your role models are shy, too?" She dropped a tea bag into the Minnie mug and poured the hot water over it.

Violet rolled her eyes. "Minnie isn't _anybody's_ role model, Kari. Who wants to be like a mouse?"

"You know what I mean." Kari brought over the steaming mug. "Anyway, you keep me on track with deadlines, and I'll keep you from imploding from overexposure to humanity. Deal?"

"Mmm," Violet agree. She sat up and took the mug, cradling it appreciatively in her hands. The steam wafting up was already easing her headache. "See, this is why we decided to room together."

"No, that's why you decided to room with me," Kari said, sitting down on her bed again. "I'm still figuring out why I decided to room with you. Probably something to do with you being my best friend. I dunno."

Violet grinned.

There was a record ten seconds of silence before Kari started talking again.

"So, are you just peopled out in general, or did something happen to get you out of sorts? Because that escalated _really_ quickly."

"I know, I'm sorry—"

"Nuh-uh. Not what I asked. Did something happen today that upset you?"

"Not exactly," Violet said. "Well, sort of. It wasn't really a big deal—"

"It obviously was if it's bothering you enough to bring it up. What happened?"

Violet told her about the incident in Freshman Comp. It sounded so stupid and unimportant now. She wondered why she had ever decided to but in in the first place; there was no reason she shouldn't have just ignored the guy and let him show off. It was none of her business. Her embarrassment growing, she tried to emphasize her frustration over picking a bad seat, but she didn't think Kari was buying it. She felt her cheeks flaming.

"Hmm," Kari said. "Well, based on my vast experience with reading books and watching movies—"

"Oh, this can't be good," Violet interrupted.

"—I think I can say pretty definitely that one of two things is going to happen. Either you two will become mortal enemies and fight with each other all the time…"

Kari paused for dramatic effect, and Violet knew at once what the other thing was going to be. _Don't say it_ , she thought. _Please, please, please do_ not _say it._

"Or you'll end up marrying him."

 _She said it._ "No. No way."

"My money's on you marrying him," Kari went on, ignoring her. "Or you might become mortal enemies first and _then_ marry him."

"I assure you, I'd be perfectly content if I never speak to him again, and we avoid becoming either enemies or lovers."

"That's what they all say."

Violet took a deep breath. She knew Kari was just being a romantic; she didn't mean anything by it. It was only that knowledge that was keeping her from losing her patience.

"This isn't a movie, Kari. In real life the obnoxious guy isn't a hero in disguise. He's just obnoxious. Once obnoxious, always obnoxious."

"Uh-huh." Kari had adopted a superior look that told Violet the battle wasn't worth fighting.

"Fine. Whatever. Believe what you will; it won't take too long to prove you wrong." Not if Violet never spoke to the boy again, which she had resolved not to do, regardless of the seat she had chosen. "Just promise me one thing: this conversation never leaves this room. Understand?"

"I understand," Kari said. "For now, at least."

"You're impossible."

"You're welcome." Kari grinned.

Violet sighed.


End file.
